


each other

by ZeGabz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, and Bellamy does too, and it's just easier for them if they have each other, in which Clarke needs someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeGabz/pseuds/ZeGabz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All that work, all that progress, and we have to start over." His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and the world suddenly feels warmer.</p><p>"We're already one step ahead." You look up quizzically. "You and I, we have each other this time."</p><p>"Each other," you echo softly, and in that moment, his words become your only religion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	each other

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea where this came from. No idea at all. But here you go, what I'd like to happen but know never will in season 2. Enjoyyyyyy.

You stare into the whiteness for so long, you begin to wonder if you've ever seen anything else. For what feels like forever, the only thing present to remind you of existence outside of this finite hell is a small, circular window.

But then he appears, and his face is color.

Black, dirty, and knotted hair. Dirt-smudged, slick olive skin. Deep brown eyes, overbearingly clear and sincere. Dark red blood, smeared across his face.

You're overwhelmed with relief, shock, panic, and a thousand other things, so overwhelmed that all you can do is reach forward with a shaky hand and touch his cheek, wiping away some blood.

"You okay?" he asks. You nod, still wordless, eyes wide with wonder. "Good."

"How?" you finally whisper, voice hoarse. He grins.

"Ask me later."

He takes your hand then, and you're running.

And god, you just feel so very  _alive._

* * *

Every time you see his face, you're hit by that same extraordinary amazement and pure joy. You remember that you don't have to lead what remains of the hundred alone, that he's there, and he's smiling at you now, and you smile back just because you can't help it.

You look around the charred remains of your camp and take a deep breath. He walks up beside you, calls, you "princess", and asks what you're thinking.

"We have to start over," you reply softly. "All that work, all that progress, and we have to start over." His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and the world suddenly feels warmer.

"We're already one step ahead." You look up quizzically. "You and I, we have each other this time."

"Each other," you echo softly, and in that moment, his words become your only religion.

* * *

Seeing your mother is too much, too soon, so you hide in the last place she would think to look: Bellamy's tent. You're there when he enters after an early morning patrol, and see his eyes widen, but not with surprise.

"You're hiding from your mother," he states, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. You blink once, twice, because wow, his body can have a blinding effect.

It's  _not_  weird.

Not weird at all.

"Is it that hard to believe I just want to spend time with my favorite person in the camp?" you retort, hoping he takes the hint and changes the subject.

He doesn't. Of course.

"You know you're only putting off the inevitable, right?" he asks, eyes darkening, "You're gonna have to face her. Why not get it over with and tell her she doesn't deserve having you in her life?" You hesitate. "Unless you actually do want her in your life."

"I don't know," you admit softly, "I mean, what she did is beyond words. And I hate her for it. But at the same time, I don't think my love for her is ever going away."

"Family's a bitch," Bellamy deadpans, "But take it from me- don't take it for granted."

"I've got all the family I need," you muse, "Eighty or so kids who call us Mom and Dad." Bellamy rolls his eyes, and you smile despite yourself. He smiles back, and when your gazes hold, you wonder when he went from the boy who would've cheerfully let you die to the boy you can't live without.

* * *

It becomes an unspoken rule that wherever you go, he will follow. If you need to collect herbs, or are just in the mood to go scavenging, your eyes find his, and he's at your side in a heartbeat. You begin to cherish these private moments together- far from Finn and his broken-hearted eyes, far from your mother and her insincere, distant sadness. Far from memories of leaving him to burn, far from it all.

You tell him stories about your life on the Ark, and he listens with keen interest, occasionally inserting his own snarky commentary in. He, in turn, tells you about Octavia as a child, about sneaking her rations in the dead of night, about playing games of silence to get her to shut up. His eyes grow distant, sad, when he speaks of his sister.

"Do you want to go and find her?" you ask one day. He shakes his head.

"The camp can't be without its two leaders." He shuts his eyes. "She's probably happy, wherever she is."

"I'm sure," you offer.

"How is it fair?" he asks, looking to you with pained eyes. "How is it fair that Lincoln can give her everything after knowing her for next to no time at all, and I, her own brother, can only bring her misery?"

"It's not," you reply simply, "But don't you doubt for a second that you aren't a good brother. You gave up everything for her, and in the end, you made a hard decision, but the right one, for her. You are amazing, Bellamy."

He stares at you, mouth open in honest surprise. "Clarke . . ."

You don't know how his sentence was going to end, because you find the plant you're looking for, and when you look back to him, his face is carefully passive once more.

* * *

You listen to him, of course. And your talk with Abby Griffin is just as painful and horrible as you always knew it would be. And it's her final words that sink into your heart the most, like a jagged knife.

"Bellamy Blake is a criminal. When he betrays you, and I know that he will, I hope you'll be able to come back to me, because now, we're all each other has."

Each other. Your internal prayer, and your mother thinks she can lay a claim to it. You can hear her hesitant footsteps behind you as you stalk out of her tent, and straight into Bellamy's.

"How was your talk with the queen, Princess?" he asks as you sit on his bed wordlessly. His tone is mocking, but you can detect the genuine concern.

"Careful, I might start to think you care," you mutter. Bellamy sits down beside you.

"You okay?" he asks, all traces of sarcasm gone. You open your mouth, but can't get tears out, and all of a sudden it's too much. Your mother,  _him,_  everyone looking to you to lead them on a hostile planet and you wish more than anything to be able to run into your father's arms . . .

You break, and Bellamy doesn't say a word, pulling you into his arms quietly, muffling your broken sobs in his shirt.

"It's okay, Clarke," he whispers into your hair, "I've got you. We've got each other."

_Each other._


End file.
